Taken
by Derruhm
Summary: War is an evil beast. It uncaringly consumes innumerable casualties. Their lives will never be the same. Prussia/Russia, Noncon. etc. Read at your own risk. Now with Epilogue.
1. Part 1

**Taken**

Prussia and Germany sat side by side, eyes cast down at the ground as the critical accusations of the other nations rolled over them. Eyes piercing through them, sending waves of implied hatred and scorn, telling them they should feel ashamed of themselves, whispering to them doubts of their cause. Prussia's more alarmed than Germany, showing only by the fact he wasn't showing any emotion at all. Vicious red eyes bore into the floor, his eyebrow twitching from time to time as the nations addressed him in turn. But he didn't speak. He bit back his tongue, only now and then looking up and letting his hatred seethe out through his eyes.

"So then, it has been decided," England announced on behalf of the others. "We're going to break you two apart so that you don't cause any more trouble for the rest of us." The brothers were horror struck, but silent. Germany's expression fell in sadness, sneaking a peek at his brother. Prussia said nothing though. His expression held firm, though that persistent twitch stood out like red red blood on white soft silk, a flashing beacon of inner turmoil roaring through his mind.

"We're going to keep you under close supervision until we are sure you are mature enough to handle yourselves, understood?" There's not an answer. They know. "Germany, you'll being staying with me. France and America will have you at their homes on alternating weekends," England said, staring down the taller German. Then his gaze fell on Prussia. Oh Prussia. His fate was worse than death...

"And I get the little one!" Russia interjected, raising his hand and waving it back and forth, his crazy grin broadening as Prussia's expression failed. His jaw dropped, his eyes widened, his skin paled another shade, and exasperation etched into his every feature.

"YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS!" He shouted, standing up suddenly, rage pouring out with his voice. "I'm not going with that...that thing!" he says, pointing a finger accusingly at Russia.

"Sit down!" England barked. Prussia remained standing defiantly. "You will obey us!"

Somewhere behind him Prussia heard the sounds of a gun shifting in it's owner's hands. A chill ran down his spine, but he did not sit.

"It is fine," Russia said with a pleasant smile. He stood up from his seat next to England and walked over to the older brother. That sick, twisted Cheshire cat like grin of his spread across his face as he leaned down to look at Prussia. The fucking sick demented grin. It made Prussia want to throw up. Rather he spit on Russia, attempting to shove him back. Without so much as a warning Russia grabbed the shorter nation and tossed him over his shoulder as if he were a rag doll.

Prussia cursed, first in English, then in German, then in Old Prussian, then in Russian. And after that he cursed in a few more languages. And after that he just screamed, because language didn't matter anymore. He cried and flailed, clawing at Russia's back and screaming at the other nations. His watery red eyes full of tears locked on Germany, who was sitting there, watching, dumbstruck.

"HELP ME!" Prussia cried out, reaching out in futility as Russia dragged him away. "I'M YOUR BROTHER! I'M YOUR FUCKING BROTHER! HELP ME!" he sobbed. His little brother stared for a long moment, then dropped his head and looked away as Russia carried him off. The large metal doors swung open as Prussia cried out one last time. Then Germany and the rest of the nations just disappeared as the metal doors swung shut.

"Let me GO!" Prussia wailed, slamming his fists into Russia's back. The larger nation didn't seem the least bit phased by this though, walking back to his home with that sunny little grin on his face. That sick, disgusting, putrid grin. Prussia wanted to rip it right off that bastard's face.

With a wild cry Prussia thrashed, wiggling out of Russia's grasp enough that he could slam his fist into the back of the other nation's head. Russia faltered for a moment, then grabbed Prussia and flung him to the ground, his expression lightening into a tender smile. Prussia cried out when he collided with the hard earth. Before he could register what was going on Russia was on him, holding him down against the earth. The heavier man's knees hit his ribs, causing them to buckle and his chest to explode with pain.

"Let us start things out on the right foot then," Russia mused with an innocent sounding chuckle. "You belong to me now~ You can't go doing things like that."

"Bite me!" Prussia growled, trying to wiggle away from the pain shredding into him now. Why was Russia so goddamn heavy? He would crush Prussia right there before a scrap of him even got back to Russia's house.

Russia scowled and shook his head, clicking his tongue against his teeth in a tsking manner. "Then I must teach you obedience little nation," he said. Before Prussia could inquire as to what, Russia had balled up his fist and struck him clear in the face. The disillusioned Prussia spat a curse at Russia, earning him another strike.

He both screamed, and laughed through the pain. Laughing as blood started to drip out of the corners of his mouth. Laughing at the irony he saw in the situation. Laughing, because madness was a comfort when you've finally realized you've lost the fight. You're the loser, the failure. And failure is unforgivable.

Prussia lost consciousness after several blows and his uniform was already stained with his own blood. Russia smiled at the incapacitated country and hefted him over his shoulder once more and started the long walk home. Along the path he spotted some withered looking cornflowers, his smile turning from sincere to diabolical. He paid the sad little flowers no mind as he crushed them under his boots and went on his way.

XxX

Ohmygodsohistoricallycorrect!!1!1 Not really.

My rape sense is tingling. I think I should write more of this... What do you think?

Your Obligatory Prussia Whore,

- Derruhm


	2. Part 2

**Taken**

The first sense that came back to him with consciousness was touch. The feel of coarse fabric against his delicate skin. Then sound, The crushing sound of silence. Possibly someone was breathing nearby, or it might have been his own breathing he heard, if he was even still alive. What a stupid thought, of course he was alive. Cognitive thought grew in him until he was able to discern that he was laying with his eyes clothes on some sort of foreign furniture. The reason smell had yet to come back to him was because his nose was completely numb with the cold.

Eventually he dared to fully stir, opening his eyes slowly, carefully, ruby eyes scanning his surroundings with painstaking care, gingerly memorizing every detail. It took no longer than a millisecond for him to realize he'd never seen such a place in his life. He sat up, feeling the bitter cold wrap around him, caressing his snowy skin like the winter wind. It was only then that he realized he was naked. Prussia gritted his teeth and looked around for something to cover himself.

"Ahhh, comrade Prussia you are awake," a voice that brought sickness up in Prussia's throat. He looked over to see Russia hovering in the doorway, his sick, malicious, child like grin spread across his features. In his hands he grasped a tray, on it two steaming mugs. "I brought you some tea comrade," Russia offered helpfully, wondering over to the defeated nation. He set the tray down on a table and thrust one of the mugs at Prussia. Some of the hot tea splashed out over Prussia's hand, scalding his skin. He didn't flinch though, merely held the tea with all the grace he could muster, not drinking, only staring viciously back at Russia. His eyebrow twitched.

"Drink up comrade Prussia. It will help your tiny body stay warm," Prussia said with an arrogant smile.

"You know what might help more? Maybe, my clothes," Prussia snarled right back at the Russian. He set the tea back down on the tray with a loud thunk, completely untouched. Russia frowned for a moment, but then recomposed himself. Prussia suppressed the urge to growl, or more importantly, launch himself at the big oaf and knock him upside his head.

Russia got to his feet and offered the smaller nation an obligatory smile. "Your clothes weren't fit, so I had them shredded. You will get new ones."

Even as he spoke a timid Lithuania peeked his head in the door, holding a bundle of laundry in his arms.

"Ah, comrade Lithuania! Your timing is good! Give our guest his new uniform," Russia said, moving towards the door. Lithuania quickly scuttled out of the way, ducking his head as Russia passed by. "Make yourself comfortable comrade Prussia" Russia said with a honey sweet smile. But his expression changed starkly, contorting into a sickly scowl that would strike terror into the heart of even the most desensitized soldier. "It will be the last day of peace you shall know for a long time." Before Prussia even had a chance to blink all hints of aggression on Russia's face were gone, replaced by his usually childish smile. He laughed lightly at Prussia, then waved and departed the room.

"Ummm... Prussia sir," the timid Baltic state finally raising his voice above non-existent. He thrust the bundle of laundry at the former Germanic kingdom, clenching his eyes shut and looking away.

Prussia frowned at the little country, but relived him of his parcel. He unfolded the clothes to find a near identical replica of the trendy blue uniform he had worn previous to his entrapment. But it was red. That bastard, he was taunting him.

But the cold was getting to him. Not only that, but he didn't particularly enjoy being naked in Russia's house. It made his skin crawl and he was seriously worried about contracting some sort of awful parasite from the house. So he grudgingly pulled on the degrading red uniform. It itched and burned his skin, as if even his body rejected the humiliating testament of his servitude.

Prussia stole a glance at Lithuania, who had wondered away and was now busying himself with cleaning a neglected looking bookshelf. Anything not to look at Prussia. Oh god he couldn't look at him.

"So, you've worked here a long time," Prussia questioned. Lithuania froze stiff, then bent over and pretended to be very interested in a book on the bottom shelf. Prussia noticed the way Lithuania moved jerkily, the way he cringed and flinched, and he saw the scars on the little patches of flesh not covered up by clothes. Poor little Baltic. "So, he beats you around pretty regularly doesn't he?"

Lithuania didn't say anything again, but silent tears began to leak out of his eyes. He inhaled sharply and bid them away, gently blotting at his eyes until they were dry again. He clenched them shut, then turned around and with a forced smile said "Mr. Russia is doing what he thinks is right. Sometimes we just don't understand him, but he knows what he's doing." The shaky, sing-songy tone of voice indicated that it was far from truth leaking from his lips. Prussia sneered, letting Lithuania go back to cleaning. He flopped down on that damn itchy couch in his damn itchy uniform, convinced he'd already contracted some sort of mutant lice or flea bug in the few hours he'd been there.

Lithuania silently picked the tray with the tea mugs up, giving Prussia a wary glance before deciding it was okay to take them. He managed to stagger two steps with the tray before he tripped and crashed to the floor, shattering one of the mugs in the process. He gasped, horror struck, and began to pick up the little fragments, regardless of the fact his hands were bleeding. He piled the little peaces on the tray, working frantically to get them all, hoping he could fix it before—

"Lithuania~ What was that?" Russia called. The massive nation poked his head through the door, a scowl on his features. "Comrade Lithuania, how could you do that? Now you know I must punish you," he said, his expression a deranged mix between an excited smile and and angry glower.

Lithuania scrambled to his feet to plead with his keeper. "No Mr. Russia! Please, I-I didn't mean to! I—" Russia's open palm connected with the side of Lithuania's face, sending the weaker nation sprawling to the ground. Russia then grabbed up the younger one by his hair and dragged him a few feet away, slamming him against the wall and proceeding to ruthlessly beat the smaller nation.

Prussia launched himself off the couch, outraged by what he saw. " CUT THAT SHIT OUT RIGHT NOW," Prussia growled. He launched himself at Russia's back, aiming to strike a blow at the other nation's face. While the blow struck home there was not the slightest change of expression on Russia's behalf. He let go of a crying and bloody Lithuania and instead turned to Prussia. The insanity in his gaze paralyzed Prussia, his legs suddenly made of stone, his eyes completely enamored by those of the psychotic Russia.

Russia never broke the contact of their eyes. He simply pulled the length of pipe from its secret hiding place and smashed it into the side of Prussia's head, effectively rendering him unconscious once again...

XxX

EVERYONE KNOWS THE ONLY PURPOSE OF LITHUANIA IS TO GET RAPED BY RUSSIA! Srsly.

Edit (2): Fix'd some more errors I saw. I also cleaned up Russia's dialog and made it sound more... Russia, according to my resident specialist.


	3. Part 3

**Taken**

Fabric being mushed into his face was not something Prussia was particularly a fan of, though he supposed he'd just have to grow use to it living around Russia. He groaned as he attempted to roll off whatever piece of furniture he'd been carelessly plopped onto now. Maybe he could sneak out the window when Russia wasn't paying attention?

It took a perverse amount of time to realize the reason he wasn't getting anywhere was because his limbs were bound. His hands had been tied all to tightly together behind his back so that he couldn't utilize them for his escape. His fingers were numb from lack of blood and ached painfully. His ankles were also roped together but far more gingerly. He could still move his feet without them hurting, so he attempted to right himself and assess his situation. Not to mention get the bloody restraints off him.

He managed to roll over so at the least he was facing up and could stare at the ceiling instead of the nasty, itchy fabric. Mere moments later the thud of heavy boots reached his ears. Mere seconds after the dread had settled in his chest, that face, that gods be damned face with that sickening childish grin, appeared before him. That smirk. That condescending smirk that looked so innocent, yet bore the weight of the centuries. How he longed to shred that smile off his face. He would one day, he swore it.

"Hello Comrade Prussia. Is your head feeling better?" Russia asked, gently ruffling Prussia's hair.

Prussia growled, glaring at the other nation with all the contempt he could muster. "The fabric on everything is itchy. Is everything in your house made of pubes or something?" he snarled.

"No?" Russia said, though the slight inflection made it sound more like a question, which did nothing to reassure the Prussian. "It keeps you warm though. You will get use to it little Prussia," he said, patting Prussia on the head.

Prussia snapped at Russia, bile rising in the back of his throat that he longed to spit in that filthy monster's face. He was completely caught off guard when Russia grabbed a handful of his hair and jerked him upright.

Smiling, always with that kiddish innocent smile, Russia gingerly corrected Prussia's behavior with a sharp slap across the face. "You are not going to misbehave any more now, okay?"

"Damn you," Prussia grunted, trying to wriggle free, to no avail. Genuine panic began to grip his heart, squeezing the adrenaline into his veins. "Damn you to hell!" he barked slightly louder with a fit of twisting and writhing in Russia's grasp.

"Poor little nation. You're all broken up now. Stop trying to resist. You are part of me now," Russia said, his voice never faltering from his positive, chipper tone. "And one day all will be one with Russia. And it will be beautiful!"

"You're crazy," Prussia slurred, going limp in Russia's grasp with the hope he'd let him down. His scalp was starting to hurt rather intensely.

"Is that not what you and Germany were attempting to do?" Russia questioned with a slightly condescending smirk. While his expressions might be childish, there was a perverse and evil knowledge in his eyes. A sick, painful sense of knowing that would make even the most stalwart and hardened soldier pass out in a puddle of his own tears and vomit. Sometimes it was easy to forget how old Russia really was. How much blood shed he had seen. How many lives had vanished under him. And he'd smiled the whole time.

Prussia couldn't say anything, looking into those sick, twisted eyes. He glared back defiantly, but the loss for words crippled his morale. He gave another bitter twist and tried to pull away from Russia, who simply just dropped him to the floor.

The Prussian yelped as he hit the floor hard, stunned and sore. He didn't want to be here. Where was Germany? Why wasn't Germany helping him? Oh god he just wanted to be with his brother again. Where was he? Why wasn't Germany here? Was he going to let him die in this hell hole?

"No one is going to come for you," Russia mused, as if he could read Prussia's thoughts. "In time, they will all forget about you. You are better off here with me," Russia stated, picking Prussia up off the floor. He could see the silent dirty tears that were beginning to slowly drip their way out of the smaller male's eyes. He held the little German nation for a moment, softly petting his hair. "You are not Prussia anymore," Russia said softly. "You are no longer a German state. You are part of Russia now."

"I don't want to be a part of you," Prussia protested weakly, pain from within mixing with the physical pain to create a horrible drain on his senses and will. He was weak, subjugated, defeated. There was nothing left to fight for. And Germany wasn't going to rescue him this time. He was alone. The other nations had left him alone to die.

"It is not so bad little Prussia. You will just obey me and everything will be good," he said simply. As if stating that things would be good would simply just make them that way. It was like some lame fairy tale promise, only this fairy tale was twisted and perverted into some sort of distorted, demonic counter part where Princess Prussia ends up marrying the Big Bad Russia instead of Prince Germany.

"Nooo," Prussia whined, his voice fading away with the rest of his will to fight.

Russia ruffled the smaller man's hair again and said, " I will show you."

Prussia didn't know what he meant. He didn't think he wanted to. He started to say no, but Russia had taken off his scarf and wrapped it around Prussia's face, cutting him off before he could speak. A moment later blood was returning to his finger tips. He tossed his head wildly until Russia's scarf dropped away from his face and lifted his hands to his vision, flexing them slowly. His skin was pale as death, dark purple rings around his wrists from where the rope had been.

"Will you undo my ankles too?" Prussia asked absently, trying to coax feeling back into his hands.

"Will you try to run if I do?"

"...no..." Prussia paused for a long moment. He had nowhere to run to.

He felt himself being lifted once more, this time much more carefully, and set down on the bed he'd been laying on before. Russia sliced through the ropes with his knife, then pulled the frayed strands away and set the knife aside. Prussia made a tiny, weak noise and touched the marred flesh on his ankles. He hurt all over. His heart shuttered and seized up as his body recovered from the lack of blood flow. He swayed for a moment, almost falling off the bed, but catching himself and holding onto the sheets.

Russia petted Prussia's hair softly, smiling at the now more resigned former nation. He lifted Prussia into his arms and held him. Prussia wiggled and writhed in weak protest, but he didn't have it in him to fight any more. He went slack in Russia's arms, laying his head against the other nation's chest. He could hear Russia's mighty heart beating in his chest, a low rhythmic tempo that seemed so different and yet so similar to his own.

Prussia looked at his hands again. They were almost completely his normal color now. That was good he supposed, it meant they weren't going to fall off. Dirty tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes again, much to his dismay. He viciously tried wiping his cheeks to clear away any traces. No good really, they'd just drip down again.

Russia offered his assistance, wiping away Prussia's tears himself. "You will see little one. It will not be so bad to be one with Russia. You will see."

Prussia looked up at Russia, unsure of what he should say, what he should do. Should he scream no? Try to fight? Should he let go? Resign himself to fate? Should he hang on to the hope Germany would come for him? Or face the reality that he was beyond Germany's help?

Russia could feel little Prussia's indecision. That was good. It mean he'd finally cracked through that damn veil of Prussian Pride. Maybe now the defenseless and despaired little nation would see things his way. All would be one with Russia! It would be a beautiful, wonderful, glorious unification, and he was going to be a part of it too. He petted Prussia's hair and spoke to him in Russian, though the smaller male only understood every fourth or fifth word. It didn't really matter to him at this point. He didn't have any options left it seemed.

"I'll never be one with you," Prussia murmured hollowly. He jerked himself out of Russia's grasp and walked several steps away. He looked out the window at the snowy expanse stretching on seemingly forever. This was not his home. He didn't belong in this place. He didn't want to either."I would rather die in my home than live forever in yours."

Russia didn't seem put off by this though. He just smiled. God. It made the anger rise back up in Prussia's chest to see that irritating, innocent smile. He knew damn well Russia was no innocent. Russia knew that too, he could see it in his eyes. But he smiled regardless and asked him "Yes, but would you rather die alone?"

That smile. That childish smile, and those soft, innocent eyes, filled with secret accusation. It was enough to drive Prussia mad. He wanted to scream and howl at Russia, to ask how he had the audacity to smile like that when they all knew damn well Russia had more blood on his hands than any of them.

Yet... Prussia found he couldn't say anything. He just stood there and stared at Russia, who took Prussia's wounded silence as his cue. He moved to the door, giving Prussia one last glance. "Sleep well Prussia. Tomorrow you wake up bright and early."

Then the door closed. The lock on the outside clicked softly, leaving Prussia trapped in the room. Alone. His only company in his thoughts.

XxX

Last chapter, ho!

Edit: cleaned up some grammar. I really need a beta for this.


	4. Part 4

**Taken**

The sound of knocking on his door seemed painfully loud. Prussia rolled over and tried to ignore it, but only a moment later the door creaked open. He clenched his eyes closed, wondering if it was possible to make this all go away by ignoring it. Maybe he was dreaming? Maybe...

"M-Mr. Prussia? Are you awake?" the timid house keeper called from the doorway. Prussia sighed. At least it was better than Russia. He rolled back over, facing Lithuania and staring at him coldly. Lithuania inched back a step, looking down at the ground as if to apologize, or something to that degree. "Mr. Russia told me to come and wake you."

Prussia grunted and got to his feet. "Stupid bastard can't even be bothered to come and torture his own victims," he mumbled as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He did well to cover up his dread with his snark in front of his fellow captive. He grudgingly followed the Baltic male through the house, down to Russia's office.

Lithuania reached to open the door but Prussia grabbed his wrist, stopping him. He waved the other male away, swallowing his fear and proceeding alone. He opened the door wide and walked in, his face set in stone, his held held up high. He would not break down in front of his captor again.

To his surprise they were not alone. Another, tiny nation was standing before Russia, trembling something fierce. Russia was saying something to him, but Prussia couldn't make it out through the other's terrified sniffles.

"And so, from now on, you are not going to do that, yes?" Russia said with a cheery grin, patting the other roughly on the shoulder. Latvia nodded, shrinking at the other's touch. "Good! You may go now comrade." Latvia backed away slowly, then hurriedly shuffled out of the room, paying Prussia no mind as he made his hasty exit. It was only after Latvia had successfully exited that Russia acknowledged Prussia. "Comrade Prussia—"

"I'm not your comrade," Prussia interjected stiffly.

Russia looked at him for a moment then nodded. "Yes you are! You belong to me now, remember?"

Prussia's expression did not falter. "You may have my land, and you may have my possessions, and even my government. But you will never have _me_."

Russia's face fell somewhat, mostly out of confusion. "Oh, you say such silly things comrade Prussia. Of course you are mine." Prussia didn't say anything. Russia stepped closer, looking over his possession. Prussia kept his face straight forward as Russia waltzed behind him. He tensed as the other grabbed his shoulders, leaning over him. "You belong to me now, yes. I am going to make you one with Russia." Prussia tensed as Russia's grip on him tightened.

Then Russia shoved him forward, sending him sprawling forward onto Russia's desk. He let out a slightly pained grunt, trying his best to scramble back to his feet. No good, Russia was over him, holding him down. He made several noises of protest as he tried to throw the other off, but he was simply not in an advantageous position for such a maneuver.

"You will see comrade Prussia, being one with me is not so bad." The larger nation's hands slipped around the Prussian's midsection, reaching for the belt that held the unflattering red pants up. It was this move that signaled to Prussia what was happening. He jerked violently, trying to throw off his captor, but to absolutely no avail. It was like a mouse trying to fight an elephant. Russia was so much bigger, so much stronger. Prussia never had a chance.

Click. His belt came undone and was swiftly discarded. Russia's hands promptly slipped into Prussia's pants, yanking them down. Prussia tried to protest, to fight, but not scream, that would give the bastard too much satisfaction. Russia responded to Prussia's struggling by bashing him in the side of the head. Disoriented, dizzy, and tasting something vaguely like blood in his mouth, Prussia collapsed against the desk, giving Russia the opportunity to strip off his own pants.

There was nothing gentle about the way Russia handled his captive. He pinned the other down with one hand, the other hand gripping the other's hip with bruising strength. He gave no warning, no caution, not even a friendly reminder how much pain the other would feel as he thrust himself inside the other.

Prussia bit his lip, willing himself not to scream out, but he couldn't hide the pained tears that leaked down the sides of his face. He gripped the desk, a low, pained whine escaping him as the other abused him. Russia only laughed at the smaller nation's pain, pushing harder, faster, without any regard to the other's well being. The pain was almost too much for Prussia to bear. His body ached and screamed from the impact. He swore he could feel a trickle of blood between his legs.

It all happened quickly, though it felt like it took years to the former nation. Russia came inside him, leaving a sticky, disgusting feeling in Prussia's gut. When Russia pulled away he crumbled. He slid off the desk and hit the floor with a resounding thud, curling up into a ball of pain and self-loathing.

"You are Prussia no more..."

Then Russia left the room, leaving the once prideful warrior nation a sad, broken heap on his floor. Prussia didn't go out with a scream or a fight, but rather with a tiny whimper in a puddle of his tears and Russia's essence.

XxX

The end.

Were you expecting something more dramatic? Sorry about the several month gap between the third and fourth chapter. I got a little caught up in other things and, honestly, forgot about it. So... here it is.


	5. Epilogue

**Taken**

**(Epilogue)**

Things changed after Prussia became fully assimilated. He became quite and introverted, keeping his thoughts to himself. He no longer fought or screamed at Russia. Whenever they saw each other at all it was only in those brief times when Russia had Prussia come into his office for some more 'punishment'. Prussia became accustomed to his punishments. In some sick, twisted way, he grew to enjoy the brief moments of intimate contact, even if there was no love or feeling in the other's actions. Sometimes though, on special occasions, Russia would stay for a while, petting his hair and telling him what a good boy he was.

He grew painfully familiar with Russia's other captives too. The Baltic states were really rather charming young men he came to find out.

Estonia who looked so stern and serious on the outside, was really just a lovable book worm. He'd loaned Prussia books for him to read in his brief periods of time he had to himself. Usually it was at night, when he was alone and everything was quiet aside from the wind outside.

Latvia was the one worried him sometimes. He was quiet, even around his brothers. He spent more time in Russia's terrible office than any of them though. It was little wonder that the boy was so scared. However, it was easy to spot Russia's growing influence in the boy. He spoke strangely some times, in ways that sent chills down Prussia's spine.

Lithuania and he were fast friends. They often found themselves working together to keep the massive house in peak condition. They were reluctant to even look at each other at first, but bits and pieces of small talk between them soon fostered an intense bond known only by prisoners and soldiers. They watched out for one another, covered for each other's mistakes, and disclosed themselves to one another. And some nights one would come into the other's room and crawl into bed with the other, and they would hold each other and cry.

Every now and then, if he was lucky, he would see Hungary. She was not the girl he remembered though. She had lost much of that life and fire he remembered seeing in her when they were young together. She no longer had the strength and luster of yester-year. She was as broken and hollow as the rest of them. The old acquaintances sometimes shared moments with soft words of reassurance for each other. Germany would come for them, Austria wouldn't let things stay this way, and other such delusions. As the years dragged on she seemed to have regained some of that strength.

Over the years Prussia became desensitized to thoughts of being free. He was beginning to forget what free was. In truth, he began to forget what Prussia was. And one day...

There was a loud knock on the door. Prussia ignored it, continuing with his assigned chores that day. Another knock. He looked up this time. Another. It really wasn't his business to get it. It would be someone for Russia, so it was best just to let him answer it. Another knock, followed by some muffled calling. Prussia sighed, setting down his work and walking to the door, opening it grudgingly.

"Can I help you?" he asked the blond male standing before him.

The other male smiled, throwing his arms around Prussia and hugging him tightly. "_Bruder_," he said, his voice full of emotion. "I am so glad to see you again." Prussia stood motionlessly, wondering who this stranger was or what he was suppose to do. This apparently did not please the stranger, who let go and looked at Prussia, throughly confused. "Prussia. It's me. Your brother. I've come to take you home!"

"You must be looking for someone else. I'm the German Democratic Republic, I serve the great nation of the Soviet Union," he said simply. "There is no one named Prussia here."

The blond stranger stared, dumbfounded at the other's words. How could he? He reached out and touched the older male's face. "Oh _bruder_,what has he done to you?" he asked. He seemed at a loss of what to say, or what to do. He grabbed the shorter male and scooped him into his arms.

Soundlessly he carried home the broken pieces of the once mighty and glorious kingdom. There was no Prussia any more. Only the fractured pieces of an empire that would never be... ever again.

**XxX End XxX**

Okay, so, here's the real ending. Did you think I was that cheap to cut it off like that? Enjoy your happy ending faggots.


End file.
